Things I'll Never Say
by theBookwormMarauder
Summary: To deal with her confusion regarding her feelings about a certain Gryffindor, Lily begins writing letters to him. Will she ever be able to send them?
1. July 5th

Okay, so I can admit it here.

I miss you, you complete and utter git.

I'm not supposed to and I don't know why.

And it kind of scares me.

Ugh, this is horribly disturbing and revealing and I just want to crawl into a corner and forget I ever thought of doing this.

But at the same time this is oddly refreshing.

You are a BLOODY GIT.

Git git git git BLOODY GIT.

Ha. Take that.

This whole summer thing is kind of nice, with me not having to see you for months.

The next time I see you will be at Hogwarts.

I plan to wow you.

I DID NOT JUST THINK THAT.

I DID NOT JUST THINK THAT.

I DID NOT JUST THINK THAT.

The heat is affecting my brain.

Curse promising myself to be truthful in all aspects of these letters.

Curses.

This is ALL your fault, James Potter.

_-Lily_


	2. July 6th

**AN: The title of this story is the title of a song by Avril Lavigne.**

* * *

I think I hate Snape more than you.

I don't really hate you, actually.

(But I'll never tell)

It's sort of like fond loathing.

Except sometimes you are just such an ass. SUCH an ass.

But you're lucky if you think I'm a ass to you normally (big baby!). I am a million times worse to Snape.

And he is mean to me, as well.

I actually think you're more of an ass to me than he is, but you've had your moments.

These moments being the reason I've started doing this like a complete LUNATIC.

To try to get some things sorted out.

You better be nice to me when you get back.

I won't be nice unless you do. HA.

I've gotten worse at transfiguration.

You would make such fun of me, but I can kick your ass in charms any day. A million times harder than you can kick mine in transfiguration.

We're so _different_.

We think different and we have different views (although sometimes I'm not sure if you have those views just to bug me). And different senses of humor and different priorities.

But I wonder.

I wonder and I wonder and I can't stop wondering even though I desperately want to.

It was our bloody friends' fault for planting these infernal speculations in my mind.

Bloody friends.

I will laugh so hard if I ever end up showing these to you one day.

I think you will too.

GAH. I'm too nice to you in here.

You are a prat.

You are mean, ignorant, arrogant, and prejudiced.

Yet you still warrant me doing this.

How the hell do you?

It certainly isn't your "charming" self.

No way.

I don't even know why I'm doing this.

I definitely shouldn't be.

I take that back about showing these to you.

These are staying in the dark recesses of my trunk and never coming out.

EVER.

Oh, the ridicule I would endure if anyone knew about this.

I hate you.

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you SO THERE.

I feel bad when I write hate.

I bet Professor McGonagall would laugh so hard if she knew I was doing this.

I bet she would laugh so hard.

I should too. I really should.

I shouldn't be doing this.

It makes no sense!

There is no logic behind this.

NONE AT ALL.

This is oddly refreshing.

Yet horribly embarrassing at the same time.

I think I said that last time.

I'm stopping for today.

This is not healthy.

Not healthy at all.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

-_Lily_


	3. July 8th

Mum let me floo to Alice's house after I finished cleaning this morning.

Note that Pet, the bridezilla, had to do NOTHING.

I am pissed.

I bruised my foot on a rock in Alice's garden. Frank was there too (of course) and he had taken Alice's wand to tease her.

It was pretty rich seeing Frank beat up by a witch less than half his size.

My bloody foot hurts like hell.

I'm utterly convinced that even though you weren't there, it was entirely your fault.

Everything always is.

If you were here right now you would be absolutely indignant because you would call me a baby for complaining about my foot and then _you_ would complain about how I'm so mean to you because I always blame you for everything.

(Then why do you flirt with me constantly James Potter? Hm?)

A secret:

I always blame you for everything because I know it irritates you. It makes me laugh because you're so funny when you're irritated about it and it's payback for you always annoying me and your CONSTANT invasions of my personal space.

Ha!

Frank and Alice say we flirt a lot.

Are you kidding me!

…Do we?

I don't think we do.

Well, kind of.

Okay so we do.

Sometimes.

But honestly it's just us fighting and slapping. And then you asking me out to piss me off.

Two things:

Do you remember that day you and Sirius and Remus and Peter made all that blue goop fall from the ceiling during a Slug Club party?

We had to wait in the dungeons _in the winter_ while professor Slughorn cleaned things up.

I had on a sweater but I was freezing. My hair had come part undone and I had a huge hank hanging in my face.

You looked at me all huddled over and cold and you raised your hand towards my face and gently as anything I have ever felt tucked my hair behind my ears just as I put my hand up to the do the same thing for myself and our fingers touched for just the briefest second.

Oh Merlin.

I swear that sounds like I like you.

Which I don't.

Bloody hell.

Also:

Do you remember when I lost my wand and you were standing by Dorcas and I asked you if you knew where it was?

You said McGonagall had found it and it was in her office and I was so relieved and I shouted "I LOVE YOU!" before running off in a mad hurry.

Halfway out of the common room it hit me and I turned around waving my hands and we both just looked at each other, extremely confused.

"NO!" I said. "NOT LIKE THAT!"

That was funny.

I swear I didn't mean to say that.

I can't believe I did.

-_Lily_


	4. July 13th

**AN: I have six letters already written, so that's why they're going up so fast. Expect my posting schedule not to be so fast after I've got all the letters I've written so far posted.**

**I'm glad people have started reviewing, I know some people aren't going to like this because my portrayals of Lily and James are a little unconventional.**

**Katstring: No, this is all just unsent letters, nothing else. Although who knows? Maybe one day James will see them…

* * *

**

I almost showed Dorcas these yesterday but decided not to.

I keep thinking about you and talking about you. Especially to Alice.

But I can't tell ANYONE about this.

Anyone excluding Alice, Dorcas, and Remus.

They kind of have a clue as to what's going on.

Myself, I don't really know.

I think that maybe if we get over ourselves one day we would be a good match.

And if we did get over ourselves…

This is the biggest secret.

I think I would like to go out with you, Potter.

No, not right now, most certainly not. Not unless you miraculously deflate that head of yours over the summer, which is highly unlikely.

But this is my secret and this is why I'm writing these to you in the first place.

Ugh, this is so creepy, isn't it.

Sorry.

Woah, not apologizing to you!

Nyah.

I think it's kind of funny I still manage to fight with you even though we haven't seen each other since the summer holidays began.

Somewhere, in between the beginning of the year and the end of it, I stopped hating you.

Instead it became affectionate dislike.

Why are you such a git sometimes?

Especially to me.

_Honestly_.

You suck.

Ew. Why am I doing this?

I DON'T LIKE YOU.

YOU SUCK.

BLOODY HELL.

-_Lily_


	5. July 17th

Blah.

I'm so tired right now.

I will probably end up regretting writing to you later on a day when I've managed to do more than stumble around muttering to myself and running into people.

I am like the walking dead and it isn't pretty, let me tell you.

So, uh, Hogwarts starts again.

Yeah.

I really really really REALLY should stop writing to you, Potter.

It is presenting me with a false picture of who you really are and serves to do nothing but lure me into a false sense of comfort with you and actually forgive you for being the great prat you are.

Ugh.

Too tired to finish Charms essay, let alone continue writing to _you_.

-_Lily_


	6. July 18th

**AN:**

**banana-hater: I know this is sort of lacking in any other content but Lily complaining about James right now. This is for two reasons. **

**A) It's summer and she hasn't seen him for a bit, therefore there isn't really much to record. **

**B) She's coming to terms with her feelings about him, and she's in quite a state of confusion. When she's writing to him, what she's really trying to do is work her feelings out on paper.**

**Therefore, once she comes to terms with her feelings or at least figures out something definite about what she's feeling, there will be more content. There will also be more content when she sees James again, because there will be more for her to write about.

* * *

**

I HATE YOU.

I can't stop thinking about all the bloody funny, nice, stupid, mean, annoying, just YOU things you've done.

Brilliant.

I have resorted to using 'you' as an adjective.

Well, great.

I think it's GREAT.

You are such a problem.

You probably have business cards that say "James Potter, first-class PROBLEM" on them.

Oh my goodness I cannot wait to go back to Hogwarts.

Do you know why?

Because then you will be there, and I will be there, and I will se that you are just as big of a prat as you normally are and anything else that I might be beginning to feel due to these infernal speculations my (our) idiot friends have will be immediately quenched in favor of pure hatred.

Okay, so maybe no pure hatred.

Damnitt, Lily, be firm!

Pure hatred it is.

Fine.

Maybe just hatred.

Screw this.

Screw you.

Bollocks.

That's sort of my problem in the first place. Except I don't know who would want to screw you except your current harpy…Callista Horndale, correct?

It's like the conversation Dorcas and I had and then later told you about.

A _door_ has more sex appeal than you and Sirius combined.

And then you, of course, took that as an excuse to start going into an absolutely vulgar description of me shagging a door, with comments like "Isn't the knob a little big? Wouldn't that hurt?"

Prat.

-_Lily_


	7. August 4th

Bloody hell.

I sort of don't hate you anymore.

It's a problem.

I fully expect my feelings to change once we see each other face-to-face again. I highly doubt you've stopped being a prat over just a month or two.

Why me?

I don't know how I feel about you.

Dorcas has a fool proof test for determining your feelings about someone. You just imagine snogging them and if you feel complete and utter disgust, you don't fancy them. If you feel something, well…

I did this once when Remus and I were becoming better friends. I was drinking a bottle of butterbeer and the image of me and Remus snogging felt so horribly incestuous, I spat my mouthful of butterbeer across the common room.

Yes, and I suppose you're keen on knowing what I feel when I imagine snogging you?

Another secret for you.

I

Um

Well

I like it.

Not fully and utterly like it…

Okay that's sort of a lie. Uuuugh,

I like it, alright? I like it I like it I LIKE IT.

Fuck.

But when I think of fancying you I get rather naseous.

I don't know.

What I do know is that if I did fancy you…

I am stubborn stubborn stubborn stubborn STUBBORN.

I would never be able to admit it to myself.

But I can't fancy you.

I don't.

Ha.

I found a Shakespeare sonnet in the book that my parents gave me for my birthday. The first half goes like this…

_Why is my verse so barren of new pride?_

_So far from variation or quick change?_

_Why, with the time, do I not glance aside_

_To new-found methods and compounds strange?_

_Why write I still all one, ever the same,_

_And keep invention in noted weed,_

_That every word doth almost tell my name,_

_Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?_

The next line begins with "O, know, sweet love", which certainly does not apply in this situation.

Ugh.

Great.

I've just given you a sonnet.

Somebody knock some sense into me, PLEASE.

-_Lily_

**AN: The full Shakespeare sonnet Lily "gives" to James:**

_Why is my verse so barren of new pride?_

_So far from variation or quick change?_

_Why, with the time, do I not glance aside_

_To new-found methods and compounds strange?_

_Why write I still all one, ever the same,_

_And keep invention in noted weed,_

_That every word doth almost tell my name,_

_Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?_

_O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,_

_And you and love are still my argument;_

_So all my best is dressing old words new,_

_Spending again what is already spent;_

_For the sun is daily new and old,_

_So is my love still telling what is told._

-William Shakespeare

Love that sonnet!


End file.
